


Cas in the Attic

by HeddersTheOwl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depressed Dean, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Season/Series 08, mechanic!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeddersTheOwl/pseuds/HeddersTheOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sam leaves to try college again, Dean discovers that they've had an unknown houseguest in their attic. Now all Dean has to do is get him to stay downstairs for five minutes and figure out what to do with him when he is around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. College

**Author's Note:**

> warning: contains self-depricating thoughts from Dean and very brief mentions of the death of a child
> 
> this is my first multi-chapter fic that I've actually planned out properly and definately intend to finish. It's also my first fic entirely focussed on deancas bc they are adorable and in lurve.  
> I'll try to publish a chapter a week, but maybe more if I get super into it.
> 
> Un-Beta'd, so all the mistakes are entirely my fault. Let me know if you think this needs any trigger warnings.

Sam and Dean Winchester stood together, staring up at the huge college buildings ahead of them. The whole place was packed out with students, their huge bags knocking into the people around them as they hugged parents and siblings in a final goodbye before their world narrowed into tests, stress, and 3 a.m. essay writing. The Winchesters were no different, although Sam was significantly taller than everyone else starting their first year of Law and their parents were nowhere they could reach for an embrace.

“I’m so proud of you Sammy” Dean said gruffly, pulling his brother into a hug for the fifth time that day, having to stand a little on tiptoe because Sam was far too giant for regular people to be around.

Sam hugged back, his eyes going misty as the word “Dean…” wobbled out of his mouth. The man in question gave a watery chuckle and pulled back, hands still gripping Sam’s upper arms tightly.

“Hey come on I said I was proud, not that I want you to cry on me.” Sam rolled his eyes and swiped at the offending tears, grinning all the same. 

With a final pat to his arm, Dean stepped back and leaned against the Impala- now empty of the things Sam wanted to take with him to Stanford on his second time around. It hadn’t been much: his clothes; his laptop; the new sheets Dean had insisted on because he was not having his little brother sleeping on anything college kids had been on in their first years of freedom from parental supervision; and two photographs, one of his parents that Missouri had sent over one day out of the blue and another of him and Dean on the Grand Canyon, which Dean had insisted on visiting when Sam had recovered enough from the Trials not to have to lie down every hour.

There was also the box of weapons in the case under his new bed and the cross which hung above the door, but those weren’t really Sam’s. Those belonged to a life that they were both somehow managing to leave behind: the sweater given by an elderly relative that scratched and didn’t fit properly but was kept anyway so as not to hurt their feelings which was finally getting sent to a charity shop.

It seemed too small a set to have after such a long time of living, although it made sense- Sam had never been one for material possessions, too used to a life on the road and needing everything valuable to be packed into a duffle bag at short notice. They hadn’t had to leave town in a hurry since they’d moved into the house, but old habits die hard. 

Sam leaned beside him and Dean nodded towards the buildings in front of them. “You're going to do great Sammy. If anyone gives you any hassle call me and I'll be down here in a second to kick their asses for you.”

Sam smiled, and then he looked seriously into Dean’s face. “Same to you Dean, if you ever need anything-”

Dean waved a hand and gave him a fond grin, “I know.” 

They both pulled back into silence for a while, then Dean gestured around at their surroundings to catch Sam’s attention. “Did you ever think we'd end up here, after everything?”

Sam considers this, and then laughs. “Not really, I always figured you'd lock me in a closet as soon as I mentioned going back to college.” Dean gave him a shove for his cheek, and then leaves his hand on Sam’s arm, going quiet again and looking at this point of contact to avoid his eyes.

“I’m really going to miss you brother.” he said softly, just loud enough for Sam to hear it over the various shouts from the other farewell parties beside them.  
“Me too Dean,” Sam replied just as gently, putting his hand on Dean’s bicep too so they were joined along the arm, speaking concernedly when Dean looked up at him, “You gotta call me every week okay? If you don't, I'm running straight home with a shotgun and some holy water.”

Dean snorted, “What are you my girlfriend?” to which Sam grinned and sighed. Dean smirked back and moved his hand to his jacket pocket, rubbing his car keys with his thumb. “Of course I'll call, Sam, you're my brother. Stay safe alright?”

“I should be telling you that. No going back to the hunts while I’m gone.” 

Dean looked at him, tensing for an argument, “Sam-”

“No, Dean, we've talked about this.” Sam interrupted, his glare withering the points Dean had been about to make, “We've done our share of work for the world, you've done far more than anyone should ever have to. Enjoy what we've saved, Dean. There are other hunters out there. You don't have to give up what we've built up just because someone's got a ghost problem half way across the continent. You hear of something nasty, you call Jody and stay home, okay?”

Dean looked away from his brother, choosing instead to look at the floor, moving a stone around with his foot. They had talked about this, had tried picking the mantle back up after the Hell was shut by the trials when Sam had recovered somewhat.

It didn’t work out as planned- the simple salt and burn for a little girl who had been shot by her father in a hunting accident had ended with her ghost trapped in a circle of salt, crying pitifully and begging them ‘please don’t hurt me’ as they dug up her tiny body and set it alight. 

Both of them found it hard to sleep that night, more so than usual, and eventually agreed that they couldn’t do this anymore. There were too many emotions involved, too few victories that could really be counted as just for them to keep putting themselves through. That’s when they bought the house, not a huge place but in a nice neighbourhood with parks and fences. They needed something away from the Life- more than the car or the Bunker, somewhere they could hold on to and spread themselves into permanently. Somewhere that would shape around them instead of cramped sitting spaces or massive unfilled expanses.

They had been living in the house for about a year and hadn’t hunted since. Dean still felt the guilt piling up though, every slightly suspicious death mentioned on the news pulling him through the wringer because maybe he could have stopped it, maybe that could have been avoided if he wasn’t so fragile, if he just did his damn job like he was supposed to and wasn’t so damn fragile.

“Dean, please.” Sam’s voice cracked on the ‘please’, hand gripping Dean’s shoulder hard and lip quivering slightly when Dean dragged his gaze back to Sam’s face.

“I'll do my best Sammy,” Dean offered, heart twisting at the mix of relief and pain in his brother’s expression, “If some big bad comes to my door though...”

Sam nodded and blinked the tears that had been threatening again, pulling in a deep breath and releasing it as he forced himself to relax a little. His voice was still a little shaky when he said “I should go get signed in, it'll probably take a while and I might not have much time afterwards before it gets late. D'you wanna stick around 'til I'm done or...?”

Dean shook his head, mentally congratulating Sam on his valiant effort to seem unaffected. _That’s the Winchester way_. “Nah, I think I'll start off home, maybe I'll beat the rush of parents tearfully heading back to suburbia after kissing their perfect little darlings off to a year of drinking and partying on daddy's dime.”

Sam snorted at that, raising his eyebrows at Dean and giving him the look that said he was being a hypocrite, though over what Dean had no idea.

“What?” he said with a frown, eyebrows pulling together like magnets of confusion.

“Dude, we live in suburbia now, those people are you, and I am your perfect little darling.”

Dean’s mouth dropped at the accusation. “Wow, really Sammy? That’s what you think of me? Really? Okay a) I would never drive a Volvo or wear a polo shirt if God himself told me to, and b) you wouldn't stop studying to have a little fun if your life depended on it. How you ever got a girlfriend last time you were here is beyond me”

Sam’s smirk turned soft at the mention of Jess, her memory now being a throb of sadness and affection rather than the stab of guilt it once was. Or, that’s how he described it when Dean had asked. Returning to college had brought up some difficult issues. “Yeah, well, I don't know how Jess put up with me for so long either. She was...great. Anyway how about you?”

Dean blinked, “Me? What about me?” 

“You need to get out of the house too, and not just for the garage. Meet up with Charlie, join a book club, run for congress- I don’t care, just don't sit alone in the house and...wallow.” 

“I do not _wallow_ ”

“Dean.” Sam’s inclined head showed just how well he remembered the all-day ice-cream in the dark when Doctor Sexy was killed off in the final episode of the season. To be fair to Dean, the doctor had just reunited with the long lost love of his life when he was hit by that bus, and they had recently discovered that they weren’t siblings at all, but third cousins. It was an emotional time for the entire hospital.

Dean huffed a laugh and shook his head, trying not to think about the person he would rather spend time with than a book club of strangers. “I thought you were signing in.”

Sam glanced at his watch, “Yeah I should...” he trailed off, looking from Dean to the college and back again. “I'm not leaving forever okay? There are like twenty holidays, you'll hardly know that I'm gone.” He bit his lip in worry, stressing about his brother being lonely rather than the new life he was making for himself, because Dean was a constant source of difficulty for everyone.

Dean forced a smile and joked, “Oh great, I was looking forward to some peace and quiet away from your Sasquatch feet stomping about the place. No more being woken up by your long midnight showers or my books being put away before I was done reading them.”

Sam frowned, brow furrowed in confusion, “Wait, what? I thought that was you doing that.”

Dean copied his expression, squinting at his brother, “What? I work at the garage all day why would I stay up to clean?” He refrained from mentioning that he was usually awake anyway, sleep elusive as he remembered bad hunts and lost friends.

“Hmmm.” Sam’s tone was thoughtful but worried, as he suggested, “Maybe one of us was sleep walking or something.”

“Right.” said Dean flatly, both of them thinking of disturbed spirits but neither wanting to say it. It couldn’t be a ghost, they blessed the house regularly and had mixed salt into their paint when they put up protective symbols, but that didn’t stop Dean’s head from being filled with the whimpering of an undead child. Forcibly pushing the images of her going up in flames to the back of his mind, Dean cleared his throat. “Sign in.”

Sam jumped a little, pulled back from a memory probably at least as hard as Dean’s. “Right. I'll just- call me as soon as you get home okay Dean? I'm going to miss you.” 

“Yeah, yeah you already said.” Dean’s chest ached as he dragged Sam into the final hug of the day, wanting to pull him back into the car and drive away again, stop him from moving on without him. It was a ridiculous idea, one he knew wouldn’t be good for either of them if he acted on it- Sam had made it clear that he needed space away from Dean right now, because they would ‘fall into old habits’ and stay ‘stuck in a cycle of co-dependency’. Dean got it, he wouldn’t want to be held back by a clingy older brother if he had the chance for a new start either. They should have some distance.

That didn’t stop them from holding tight in this last embrace though. They were both rather sniffley when they let go, patting each other hard on the back as they moved back from each other.

“Remember to have fun once in a while, okay Sammy?”

Sam nodded and turned to leave, when Dean grabbed his shoulder.

“Sam!”

“Yeah?”

“Remember to feed yourself properly.” Sam rolled his eyes, but smiled.

“Of course, Dean.” He put his hand over Dean’s and gently removed it from his arm as Dean searched his face. He waited patiently until his brother blinked and nodded, expression moving from concern to amusement.

“Okay, good, get going then Gigantor.” Sam got six feet away before Dean called out again, “Sam!”

“What?”

“Don’t by drugs from anyone called Don.”

Sam gave Dean an exasperated look over his shoulder and kept walking. “I’m not going to buy any drugs, period.”

“Sammy, wait.”

Sam rolled his eyes but turned back anyway. “What is it Dean?”

Dean’s smile softened and Sam could tell this was the final sincere farewell from his brother. “Mom would be proud of you.”

Sam felt a smile tug at his mouth and tears prick at his eyes, so he nodded quickly and turned away, soon losing himself within the mass of other people moving towards the rest of their lives.

Dean sat back in the car and rested his forehead on the dash for a minute, the empty passenger seat seeming to hollow him out. To try and drown out the bleakness of his own aloneness, Dean turned on Kansas, pulling out of his space and heading for home while Steve Walsh sang about Dust in the Wind, entirely deserted.


	2. The Bathroom Sink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: none
> 
> I wasn't actually expecting over 170 poeple so see this, I'm so pleased!  
> hope I don't let you down haha
> 
> again, let me know if this need more warnings

Dean pulled into the driveway of the house, having driven through the night because the road was soothing, and leaned against the car for a while, looking over the place he and Sam had made into a home over the past few months. The whitewashed front had little to distinguish it from the house on its right or any other houses on the street, with the same pattern of four exactly symmetrical windows looking out at the suburban street, the sturdy front porch, and the cheery welcome mat sat proudly at the door. The only real distinctive addition to the outside was a knocker in the shape of a goblin’s face which amused Dean greatly when he spotted it in a thrift shop display case and had pulled a rueful grin from Sam as he affixed it to the door. 

They also had a front lawn which was entirely grass, which Dean took a sad sort of satisfaction in mowing every couple of weeks, each time being reminded of either the false home of a hallucinated mother or the real home of Lisa and Ben which he ultimately didn’t fit either.

There was something missing from both of those seeming happy endings, and even though he was here now with Sam, Dean still felt a tug that there was an absent piece in his life preventing him from settling down for good. He tried not to dwell on this too much, because he was pretty sure he knew what that piece was and there was nothing he could do to reach it, no matter how much he wanted to.

Even so, this was as close as he’d ever managed to get. Sam was alive and was still his brother, soul intact and everything. That was the important thing. Dean nodded to himself and pushed off the side of the car, picking up his duffel and smiling at the door knocker as he unlocked the door.

“Guess it’s just you and me now kid.” He told it with a wink. The door knocker said nothing as Dean hefted his bag in through to the front hall, and Dean was about to kick the door closed when he paused, listening intently. There was a noise coming from upstairs, the distinct gushing of running water. 

Dean carefully closed the door with as little noise as possible, reaching out for the iron bar they kept next to the door. Nothing nasty had found them recently but it never hurt to be cautious. Creeping silently upstairs, avoiding all the spots he knew would make a sound, Dean’s mind was curiously blank. He felt disconnected from what he was doing, as though he was watching someone else do it through a pane of frosted glass. His movement felt muted and his breathing was measured. The door to the bathroom at the end of the hall was half-open, and he could hear other sounds as well as the water which he couldn’t identify over the pounding of his heart. Dean paused next to the entrance, took another breath, and quietly pushed it all the way open.

What he saw flicked everything back into full colour at once. A man was stood with his back to the door, looking down at the sink while brushing his teeth. He wore a cheap black suit -sans jacket- which didn’t seem to fit quite right, his hair was a mess of black and Dean could see through the small mirror on the wall that his skin was tanned and his brows furrowed slightly as he stared at the tap which was gushing water still. Dean looked him over slowly from behind, noticing the socks on his feet and the way their greyness didn’t fit with the dark blue tiles of the floor that Dean had picked out, then moving on to the slightly frayed pant leg ends, heart hammering in his chest as he skimmed up to the man’s shoulders which were hunched over the sink- then his breath caught as he looked into the mirror again to see intense blue eyes fixed on his.

Dean felt all the air leave him in a rush like a punctured balloon and he sagged against the doorframe. They watched each other, Dean inhaling and exhaling raggedly until he managed to choke out a single word.

“Cas.”

At the sound of his name, the man blinked, breaking eye contact and ducking his head. He spat out the remnants of toothpaste- some of which had started dripping down his chin from where his toothbrush had been hanging from his mouth, forgotten, while he had been caught by Dean’s gaze. 

Dean watched, his breath still coming out rather shakily as Castiel carefully wiped his mouth with a washcloth that Dean didn’t recognise as his or Sam’s, feeling rather light headed and glad for the doorframe’s stability. Castiel paused after rinsing off his toothbrush and turning off the tap, the sudden silence pressing against Dean’s chest while the figure in front of him leaned onto his forearms and looked at the wall for a moment, as though stealing himself. Then he puffed out a breath and looked into Dean’s face through the mirror again, his eyes startling and sharp. 

“I was under the impression that you would be gone for longer. It appears I was incorrect.” His gravelly voice tugged at Dean’s chest, gripping almost painfully tight at his core. Castiel straightened and turned on his heel. An angel faced Dean fully for the first time in a long time, locking them into eye-contact again as soon as he did so, a small curve in his lips and sincerity in his gaze as he softly said “hello Dean.”

Dean remained frozen for a while, gaze flicking from one blue eye to the other under the harsh light of the bathroom’s light bulb that he still hadn’t found a good shade for. Castiel returned his look, the air in the room getting thicker with each second. Then Dean pushed himself off the door, staggering a few steps towards him until he was only a foot away, his left hand rising to touch Castiel’s cheek before he thought better of it and swung it back down to his side, barely blinking as he soaked in the bright blue of his staring partner’s eyes.

Cas broke the silence, smile fading from his mouth as he began, “Dean I-”

He broke off as Dean lunged forward and pulled him into an embrace, one arm tight around his shoulders and the other constricting around his waist. Dean trembled with the force of his hold on the other, knocking the side of his head gently against Cas’s neck as he buried his face in his re-found friend’s shoulder and fiercely held back tears. Cas’s arms were mostly trapped by Dean’s grip, but after a few seconds he relaxed his shoulders and manoeuvred his forearms to awkwardly return the hug as much as he could. Dean breathed into his neck, fingers clenching into the white shirt under his hands, almost wanting to crush their chests into one so he never had to let him go again. Dean clutched at Castiel for what felt like a long time, willing his heartbeat to slow down but not quite succeeding in that goal in any way. Then he pulled back, rubbing at Cas’s arms and looking into his face as he did so.

A lump had formed in Dean’s throat and he swallowed a few times, finally managing in a low voice, “What are you doing here man?”

“I…” Castiel shifted a little, glancing quickly around the pale blue-and-white tiling of the room before he answered to Dean’s shoulder. “I live here.”

Dean frowned, confused. “Here like, here in town?”

“No.” Cas continued to avoid Dean’s eyes, looking determinedly at his cheek this time.

“…Care to elaborate on that in any way?” Dean tried, when no further response appeared forthcoming. He finally let go of Castiel’s biceps, folding his arms self-consciously and raising his eyebrows. Dean’s finger ached from how tightly they had just been holding on to the man in front of him.

Cas shuffled his feet, seeming almost sheepish as his shoulders curled in slightly and he moved his gaze to the ceiling, squinting a little against the bare bulb above him. He was quiet for long enough that Dean was about to speak again, and then he sighed deeply and finally looked back into Dean’s eyes. “I live in your attic.”

Dean blinked. Whatever answer he had been expecting, it most definitely was not that. “You live in my what?”

“Your attic, it's a space at the top of a house usually used for storage or-“

“I know what an attic is, Cas.” Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes so that he wouldn’t have to look at Castiel’s painfully familiar uncertain expression. This conversation had taken a turn for the weird, which at least had broken the strange tension in the room. “Why are you living in my attic?”

“I needed a place to stay until I saved enough for a place of my own. I've been paying as much rent as I can afford from my wages into house bills, and bought my own food.” He blinked earnestly at Dean. “I will pay you back my debts when I have the money. I'll move out if you want me to.”  
Castiel glanced from Dean to the door and back again, nodding once in resigned conformation. “Just let me gather my things, please, and I shall be gone.”

Castiel moved past Dean and out the door with a murmured “excuse me”, which snapped Dean out of his stunned, daze. Dean’s hand shot out and grabbed Cas’s arm in a vice-like grip, stopping him in his tracks and making him turn back to face him.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, and Dean shook his head.

It took him longer than it should have to push through his shock at Cas arriving and then trying to leave again so suddenly. Dean focussed on the warmth seeping into his hand and flexing his fingers around Castiel’s bicep. It was thicker than Dean had anticipated, and he rubbed over the flesh covered by Cas’s shirt-sleeve with his thumb, watching the skin move around in circles after the travels of his fingertip. The gentle movement soothed Dean, giving him the calm he needed to look up at Castiel who was also following the journey of Dean’s thumb with his eyes, a look of almost longing in his expression- although what for Dean didn’t know.

“Are you…” Dean started, and then trailed off, losing his path when Castiel’s eyes met his. “Are you hungry?”

Castiel’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and he cleared his throat before replying. “I am somewhat hungry, yes.” He frowned at Dean, confusion clear in his squinted eyes and tilted head.

Dean nodded and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, suddenly nervous. “Do you um. I’m going to make pancakes. If you want you can-” Dean stopped and closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m going to make pancakes and you are going to eat them.” He nodded decisively and pushed past Castiel, tugging him along behind him with the hand on his arm. If that hand slid down to hold Cas’ hand rather than awkwardly pull his him along by the bicep, well, it was only because it’s easier to tow by the hand. It had nothing to do with the fluttering that sparked in Dean’s chest. Not one tiny, little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there we go. Here is my [tumblr](http://hedderstheowl.tumblr.com/) if you wanted to see that for some reason and I occasionally post about this fic on there. Mostly it's 'haha Dean and Cas are so cute'.
> 
> Please give me a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed this chapter, the kudoses (?) I got last time made me super happy.
> 
> thank you and I might put the next chapter up on wednesday bc I'm impatient.


	3. The Kitchen Table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: contains eating; (very brief) Hell mention; swearing

Dean liked the kitchen. The walls were cream and the cabinets along the wall facing the street were a pale gray, which always seemed to shine slightly in the late morning sunlight that came from the windows above the sink which were covered with net curtains, procured from the same charity shop as the door knocker.

All the cooking equipment and most utensils fit along that wall, with extra food storage in the larder on the right hand wall. A varnished wooden table with four chairs around it sat in the middle of the room, with the occasional water ring from times where Dean couldn’t be bothered to get a coaster out. It wasn’t the room with the most personal effects in it, that was his bedroom, but Dean definitely felt at home in this room. When they first moved in Dean had banned Sam from the food preparation area for five days after he had somehow accidentally burned pasta into a molten lump inside a pan. How his brother had managed to feed himself when he was in college Dean would never know. (Or so he liked to pretend. The real reason Sam had ruined the pan was because he’d suddenly panicked from the feel of the steam on his face reminding him of Hell. Dean preferred the other version.)

Castiel sat quietly at the table as Dean made breakfast. Dean could feel the tingle of being watched across the back of his neck, but when he turned to him with two plates of pancakes, Cas was studying the radio on the sideboard intently. He thanked Dean with a grateful smile when he put the plate down in front of him and they ate together. 

Dean wasn’t entirely sure of where to look, so settled on watching Cas’s hands as he neatly cut the pancake into squares and then speared three pieces on his fork. Unfortunately, the fork then went to his mouth so Dean got stuck on there for a while, examining the way his mouth moved as he chewed and then tracking the jump in his throat when he swallowed. From there his gaze slid across to Cas’s shoulder, wondering at how he could sometimes see the hue of his skin through thin material. He also wondered where the rest of his usual attire was, eyes trailing back to where a few buttons of his shirt were open around his neck where the tie normally covered. Dean flushed when he caught himself considering what else might be missing from Cas’s costume that couldn’t be seen from the outside and cleared his throat, resolutely looking his friend in the eye this time.

Cas, it appeared, had been checking over Dean at the same time, though with more innocent feelings than Dean he was sure. To cover the fact that he’d been staring, Dean nodded to Cas’s shirt. “So, where’s the trench? Didn’t lose it do you?”  
A twinge ran through Dean’s arm at the thought of that, the coat that he’d held on to through Castiel’s death being abandoned by the man himself, not so important to him as it is to Dean.

Cas glanced down at himself, as though surprised at what he was wearing. “It's in the attic.” He looked up at Dean seriously, and added, “It's warm today.”

“Right.” The pause that followed was just shy of uncomfortable as they both continued eating, Dean using the last of his food to mop up the syrup left on his plate. He sat back in his chair and tried for conversation again. “So, where are you working?” Dean asked, remembering him having said something about wages.

Cas gave a faint, pleased smile at the question, giving a small nod towards the table as he replied, “The Gas ‘n’ Sip.” He straightened his shoulders and his smile grew into a proud grin, “I’m a Sales Associate.”  
Dean frowned, incredulous. “The Gas ‘n’ Sip? That’s all the way on the other side of town!” he didn’t mean to raise his voice but it happened anyway. 

Cas didn’t seem fazed, just inclined his head while he stood up and took their plates to the sink. “It is rather a long walk, yes.”

Dean got up and followed him, leaning against the side with his back to the window and searching Castiel’s face as he gently soaped and rinsed the dishes. Dean was sure he was looking overly concerned but he couldn’t help it. Cas finished washing one of the plates and reached around Dean for a dishcloth, but Dean took it instead. Cas acquiesced and handed Dean the first dish to dry, careful that their fingers didn’t brush, which sent a sharp, sudden ache through Dean’s chest.

They had moved on to the frying pan when Dean spoke up again. He couldn’t look at his friend as he spoke and his voice came out small, quiet, sounding fragile as a pane of stained glass. “Cas, what happened to you? Last thing we knew, all the angels disappeared and you were nowhere to be found. Where were you buddy? Are you human now?”

Castiel paused a while before answering, seeming to gather his thoughts. Dean listened to his soft exhale before he began, his voice as low and grave as ever. “I did not mean to remain hidden from you all this time. In heaven, Metatron revealed the last ingredient for locking the Gates was the Grace of an angel who loves...” he huffed out a small breath and raised his eyes to the window in front of them, “humanity.” Cas quirked his lip and gently nudged Dean with his shoulder. “I suppose ET could not go home as planned.”

Dean attempted a smile back but it probably came out as more of a grimace. Castiel handed him the last fork and dried his hands on the other towel next to Dean, leaning across him as he continued his story. “I tried to find you, when I first fell. I journeyed from Illinois to the Men Of Letters' bunker through hitchhiking and the occasional bus-ride, hoping that you would still be based there.”

Cas turned to face Dean fully, looking at the side of his face with an earnest yet sad expression pulling the sides of his mouth down. “By the time I arrived you were both gone. I was discouraged until I found the note.”

Dean blinked, twisting to mirror his friend’s position. “Note? What note?”

Castiel’s posture wilted a little. “Your brother left me a message in a book which was left on the map table, telling me your current address. I came here, wanting to see you, but the house was empty. I was worried, so I broke in and searched for you.” Cas gave an apologetic smile. “Nothing was damaged when I did so I assure you. I had just checked the attic when I heard you both come through the front door. I could hear you laughing to each other and I didn't want to...burden you with my presence so I hid up there.

“I was going to reveal myself the next morning but when I climbed back down the ladder I realised that contact with either you or Sam could pull you back from the safe-haven you have built for yourselves here. I didn't want to trouble you with hard memories so I stayed in the attic. I apologise for my freeloading. I had nowhere else to exist.” He finished with a small shrug and looked down at the floor.

Dean opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He reached out to touch Cas’s shoulder, but before his fingers made contact, Cas moved away, walking towards the table with his shoulders hunched over slightly.

“I will collect my things.” Castiel said, the square of morning sunlight from the window slipping from his back like an ill-fitting cloak. “I think Nora might allow me to sleep on her couch in return for babysitting her child when she wants to go out.”

“You’re leaving?” Dean’s voice came out with a twist of longing that he really hoped only sounded obvious to his own ears. “Is that really what you want?”

“I...” Cas hesitated. “I think it might be best.”

“Or, listen, Sam won't be back for a few months. You could stay in his room. You know, if you wanted.”

Cas half turned, facing the bare cream wall of the room, sounding conflicted as he said “Dean…”

Dean pressed on. “I mean, I know it's not Heaven standards of living but-” Cas blew out another laugh at that, and Dean smiled too, getting the nerve to say what he really meant to. “Come on Cas, a guy can only have so much family leave home in one day.”

Castiel gazed at the wall for a moment, and then looked at Dean again. “We can give it a…trial run” His fingers twitched in a small parody of quote marks around the last two words. 

Dean grinned. “Awesome.”

The two of them got stuck in yet another staring match, the faint magnetic pull that had always held them together sending a light tingle down Dean’s spine as he looked at the person he’d missed for so long. They both started when Dean’s phone rang, the chorus of Enter Sandman at odds with the soft silence that had surrounded them.

“That’ll be Sammy, I should get that.” said Dean, patting down his pockets in search of the phone. “Uh, if you want to watch TV or something the living room’s-”

“I know Dean, I have been living here for quite a while.”

“Right, yeah, obviously.” Dean stumbled over his words, finally finding the phone just as it stopped ringing. When Dean looked up from the small screen, Cas had gone. Dean snorted. “Fuckin’ angels.”  
Then he almost dropped the phone when Sam called back.


End file.
